The Bacchanal
by Jada115
Summary: Alan and Miranda get in a little trouble. Based on David E. Kelley's BL characters.


The jail door slid open and Shirley Schmidt strode furiously down the hall until she came to the holding cell. She wore a trench coat over her silk pajamas. Carl followed behind her in his flannel pajama bottoms and t-shirt under his coat.

They stopped at the cell where several people were being held—two of which, a man and woman, were dressed as ancient Romans.

"Shirley!" Alan said, moving away from the corner. He was wearing a long, white toga and laurels. "And you brought Carl. It's like a family reunion."

Miranda quietly stood beside Alan, dressed in a long flowing gown and upswept curls dotted with flowers.

Carl wiped his mouth to suppress his amusement at seeing Alan and Miranda in such getup. He crossed his arms over his chest forcing his face to frown.

"First, I'd like to know why you didn't call your partner in crime, Denny? You've bailed him out plenty of times. Shouldn't he be the one to return this favor?"

"He's on a date. Friends don't stand in the way of friends' potential for sex, Shirley; it's the rules."

"And how do you know you didn't interrupt us?"

Alan pressed his face to the bars eagerly. "Did I? Please tell me I did. What _exactly_ did I interrupt?"

"Dammit Alan! This is _not_ funny!" Shirley barked.

"Well," Alan said, more seriously, setting his jaw. "The other, and most important, reason I didn't call him is because of the mad cow. He might have forgotten we were in here. Had it just been me, I wouldn't have cared so much. But I was thinking of Miranda. I didn't want her to stay."

"How noble of you. Yet you would defile her in an alleyway."

"Defile?" Alan was aghast. He looked at Miranda. "Did you feel defiled?"

"I felt a lot of things, but defiled wasn't one of them."

Alan smirked, nodded.

"Ew," Shirley said, holding up a hand to Miranda. "Please don't continue with that."

He put his hand to his chest. "Shirley, we were making _love_." He closed his eyes in mock sincerity. "It was a beautiful moment between two consenting adults."

"And I'm sure it was every bit of a moment." Shirley said.

He looked back at Miranda and mouthed "Ouch." Then he asked her, "It was longer than a moment, wasn't it?"

"Much longer and had we not been interrupted…"

Shirley rolled her eyes. "Nevertheless, imagine my surprise and heartfelt joy when at 3 a.m. on a Saturday morning, when I should be in bed asleep, I receive a phone call from one of my top attorneys informing me that he and his assistant have been arrested for a string of misdemeanors including public indecency, public intoxication, disturbing the peace and, my personal favorite, _possession_ of an illegal substance."

"I'm fighting the indecency charge. No one could have possibly seen anything. We were in an alley and these robes are very long."

"And we tried to be really quiet," Miranda said.

"Right." Alan added. "So I think we can kick the disturbing the peace charge too."

"Alan, you _live_ in a _hotel_! Why didn't you go there?"

"We couldn't drive because we'd had too much to drink. We tried hailing cabs, but they wouldn't stop to pick us up."

"Gee. I wonder why?"

"And then we got cold," Miranda said.

Shirley's eyes fell over Miranda's thin gown. "I can't imagine. It's near the end of January and I've seen lingerie made of thicker material."

Alan's eyes trailed down and up Miranda's body.

Shirley continued, "And what does your being cold have to do with having sex in an alleyway?"

"We were cold so we stepped into the alley to…you know…warm up," Miranda said. She bit her lower lip to suppress a giggle. She smiled up at Alan who smiled back at her.

"Worked excellently," he said. "I highly recommend it. In fact, I'm still quite toasty. How about you, dear?"

Miranda nodded.

"She just sort of glows doesn't she, Shirl?"

Carl rolled his eyes.

"I'm not amused," Shirley growled. "And don't call me Shirl. Why are you dressed like that in January?"

Alan looked at Miranda. "Do you want to tell her, darling, or shall I?"

"I can tell her."

"The two of you have about 30 seconds before I walk out of here."

"One of my friends is getting married," Miranda said. "And instead of the bride and groom throwing separate parties, they combined them into one. Then they decided to go with an ancient Rome theme, since the honeymoon is going to be in Italy."

"This was the first time I met Beth and Mark," Alan added, "But they seem like a _delightful _couple." He looked at Miranda. "We should go out with them sometime—like a double date."

"Okay." Miranda nodded. "We can do that."

Shirley closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "And where does the possession charge come in?" Her eyes popped open, furious, her nostrils flaring.

"I had a joint in my…" Miranda motioned at her breast. "Bodice."

"And what a delicious bodice it is too," Alan said seductively. "What do you think Carl?"

Shirley turned to glare at Carl who waved his two hands in the air, indicating he was not going to answer that question. She turned back to Alan, who was smirking.

"We didn't inhale," Alan said. "I _swear_. I didn't even know it was there until we got arrested."

"I don't see how you could have missed it since you had frisked her in the alley." Alan's eyebrows shot up. "So, Miranda," she said sarcastically sweet, "How did you _not_ know you had a joint tucked in your so-called delicious bodice?"

"Ha!" Alan laughed.

"Mark put it there."

Alan frowned and turned to her. "_He_ actually put it there himself? Mark did."

"Well, he didn't see or touch anything, I promise."

"Miranda, focus," Shirley said, still trying to maintain her falsely sweet composure.

"Mark was celebrating, running through the crowd, passing out kisses," she turned to Alan, "on the cheek."

"I'm insulted. He didn't give me a kiss."

Shirley rolled her eyes. "Would you shut up for one minute?"

Miranda continued. "And when he kissed us, he slipped a joint in our costumes." Alan peeked inside his toga. "You know, like a real bacchanal or something. And some people did light up, but we didn't. You can have us tested. We're totally clean. I got distracted and forgot the joint was there."

"Do you realize this is going to be all over the news?" Shirley looked between Alan and Miranda. "Do you realize the blemish this is going to be on the firm?"

"Oooh! We're going to be famous," Alan said to Miranda.

Miranda nudged Alan and said, "Yes, we do and we are very sorry. Really. We never intended…"

"This is the last time either of you will _ever_ call me for anything."

"Of course." Alan and Miranda nodded.

"And this is the last time I will _ever _bail you out."

They nodded again.

"And from now on you will conduct all of your _activities_ in less public places."

"Well…"Alan wavered. "Does the office count as public or private?"

Shirley glared at him.

"And this is the very last time you will smear the firm's name in such an outrageous fashion. It's one thing if we take a hit because of a case or on behalf of a defendant; but for something like this, it's insupportable. We've already become a laughingstock because of Denny's antics." She pointed her finger at Alan. "And you. You better damned well get this kicked on summary and do everything you can to get this suppressed in the news. Pull every string you have." Then she turned on Miranda. "And you, I personally think your taste in men is deplorable."

"That hurts, Shirley," Alan said sarcastically.

"I'm not finished. I can not tell you whom to date, nor can I explicitly prevent you from dating someone at the firm, but I can control whether or not you remain employed with us. When you are in public, you will conduct yourself in a way that considers the reputation of our firm at all times."

Miranda nodded.

Shirley turned to the guard. "Against my better judgment, I'll take Eros and Aphrodite here."

"That would be Cupid and Venus…Roman," Alan said.

Miranda nudged him. Shirley glared at him. The guard opened the door.

Carl said to Alan, "In an alley? Really?"

"Don't knock it 'til you've tried it."

"I think I'll pass." Carl shook his head and walked up next to Shirley.

Alan goosed Miranda. She jumped and suppressed a squeal and giggle. They slapped and pinched each other playfully.

Carl and Shirley turned around.

Alan and Miranda stopped and pointed at each other in mock innocence.

They continued down the hall—Shirley furious, Carl sleepy, and Alan and Miranda holding hands.

Later Alan and Miranda lay in each other's arms in his bed. The sun was beginning to rise and the room was cast in a grayish pink hue.

"That made my toes tingle," he said.

"Nothing like a little convict sex, huh?"

He laughed. "Did you see how angry Shirley was?"

"I thought the vein in her neck was going to explode—and the way her nostrils flared—she was really pissed."

They laughed.

"I've only seen her that angry one time before."

"Really? What happened?"

"Denny and I bet on a case and the judge found out. Actually, I think she was more angry that time than she was tonight. Because with Denny and I she just slipped into a quiet rage. She wouldn't talk to us for days. That's when you know you've pushed Shirley too far."

Miranda said, "Why did you call her to come get us—a named partner? You must be mad."

"To get under her skin mostly. I like to keep the uppermost senior partners on their toes. Besides Carl pissed me off. But Shirley will soon come around. She doesn't stay angry for too long. In fact, by tomorrow she may even be of a mind to spare a chuckle."

"I don't know about that. So what did Carl do to make upset you?"

"The day before last when you and I were in the office and he walked in…"

"Oh yea."

"I didn't like the interruption for one, but I especially didn't like what he implied about you."

Miranda thought. "I didn't think it was that big of deal."

"I didn't like it. He can say what he wants about me, but that's as far as I'll allow it to go. And then he gave me that ridiculous murder case."

"Which one? Hatcher?"

"Yes. I'm pretty certain he killed his wife and it's going to be difficult to convince the jury that he didn't."

"Alan?"

"Hm?"

"Can we not bring case talk into the bed with us? I don't want to taint it with work stuff. Let's save this until breakfast or something, okay?"

"You're right." He rolled on his side to face her. "Tell me something and be completely honest." He trailed his fingers randomly over her belly, chest, ribs, breasts. His touch made her tingle.

"What?"

"Did you feel defiled tonight when we were in the alley?"

She chuckled. "So Shirley got to you."

"She did."

"Alan, in all honesty, I did not feel in the least defiled. Did you?"

"I wouldn't know. My sexual appetites have been depraved for so long I have difficulty gauging what's…normal."

"Normal? I hate that word. It's bandied about as if it's a universal term, but it's not. As long as you and I are of the same mind and happy together, then whatever we do is _normal_ for us and what's normal for us will be different than what's normal for anyone else_._"

"You're not just saying that?"

"I'm not."

"I think we're going to have a lot of fun together."

"I think we are."

"In that case, I have another offering for the altar of Venus," he said, grabbing her hip and rolling her on top of him.

Alan and Miranda showed up for their appointed court date.

"Good morning your Honor," Alan said as he approached the table. "My name is Alan Shore and this is Ms. Miranda Houston. I will be representing us today. We waive reading; there's no sense in wasting the court's precious time. After all, you are a busy man and I would like to be busy with…" He raked his eyes over Miranda. "Something else. So shall we get started?"

The judge was balding with gray hair and goatee. He leaned against the witness stand with a cup of coffee, his robe open over his clothes.

"By all means Mr. Shore. This shouldn't take long since your notorious reputation precedes you. I can't say I'm at all surprised by any of these charges." He peered over the rim of his glasses.

"And the fact that I've committed them all with Ms. Houston's full consent should also not surprise your honor. After all, who among us could resist, really?"

The judge nodded. "Point taken. However, I'm afraid Ms. Houston's charms aren't much of a legal defense."

"Right. First of all I would like to say that neither the charming Ms. Houston nor myself have ever had arrests or convictions for possession. I would also like to add that that we haven't touched the stuff since college. Frankly, it gives me the munchies." He patted his belly. "And I don't think that's a side-effect I really need to deal with."

"Granted."

"Additionally, neither of us have ever been arrested or convicted of any of the other charges before either. Granted, my record is not exactly spotless with the acquitted embezzlement charge and a couple of contempt issues. But Ms. Houston's record is clean enough to eat off of."

"Seems however her circumstances have changed since she's met you Mr. Shore."

Alan paused, taken a little aback. He quickly recovered. "Be that as it may, I can attest, and I think she will support my claim, that she was in no way coerced or forced and that we were consenting adults enjoying a semi-private moment together."

"And we were being quiet, your honor," Miranda added.

Alan looked steadily at her. She shrugged.

"Yes." He looked again at the judge, "We were being quiet your Honor, in a non-populated alley adjacent to a non-populated street and nothing was exposed, per se, since our togas covered everything up quite nicely. So the whole disturbing the peace charge is really a little heavy-handed, I think."

The prosecuting attorney for the state chimed in. "Am I going to get an opportunity to speak, your Honor? Mr. Shore has dominated the courtroom since he walked in."

The judge waved him to sit. "I already know everything you're going to say."

"Your Honor…"

Alan smiled at his opponent.

"Your togas?" The judge said, beginning to pace, intermittently stroking his goatee and sipping his coffee.

"Yes, we had just come from a Roman-themed co-ed bachelor party."

"Sounds like fun."

"Had a wonderful time. And it seems a young man, in the spirit of a true bacchanal, was passing out joints along with his kisses. I'm sadly disappointed that I got neither. But Ms. Houston, you see…" He looked at her warmly. "With all her charms and attractions…" He looked back at the judge. "And I assure you it's an endless supply…"

"Your point, Mr. Shore."

"It seems _she_ was on the receiving end of the kiss, only on the cheek, I'm told, as well as the joint. He had placed it in her bodice, without seeing or touching anything," he looked back at Miranda.

"Nothing, I swear," she said.

"She got distracted with the festivities and forgot it was there in that delectable bodice of hers. Neither one of us partook of the…uh, party favor—though others used theirs; and we submit to your Honor, for the record..." He pulled a paper out of his folder and continued, "The results of our respective drug tests." He handed the paper to the court officer who handed it to the judge.

"Noted." He tossed the paper up on the bench as he walked by it.

"And I would like to add, your Honor, that there are pharmaceuticals much more dangerous and addictive than marijuana: Oxycotin, Dermol, Valium, Hydrocodone! There's scores of suburbanites driving their Ritalin-laced children around while they're strung out on these drugs. And these FDA approved drugs have more serious, far-reaching side effects than marijuana."

"Sounds like you're advocating weed legalization, Mr. Shore." The judged eyed him, stroking his goatee.

"I'm actually a flip-flopper on the issue, your Honor. It's just that there are more deadly drugs approved by the FDA that our doctors prescribe to us all the time—who can forget Fen-Phen? It just smacks of corrupt government and corrupt big business."

The judge held up his hand. "Please no grand-standing today, Mr. Shore."

"Right. These FDA approved drugs can cause liver damage, renal failure, high cholesterol, weight gain, depression, anxiety."

"Mr. Shore…"

"In some cases pregnant women can't even handle the drug because it can soak into their skin, damaging her fetus. The list goes on and on and on of all the health issues, notwithstanding the horrible addictions, these drugs potentially cause—and many times we give them to children. When is the last time you heard of someone actually _addicted_ to marijuana? When has marijuana ever caused someone's kidneys to shut down? In fact, the medical community is beginning to see the benefits of marijuana for glaucoma patients and pain management for AIDS and cancer patients or people who suffer from chronic pain disorders such as fibromyalgia. Yet, alcohol and tobacco, both of which have more far-reaching, insidious effects, and no medical benefits whatsoever, are actually legal."

"Marijuana is a gateway drug to more dangerous substances."

"That hasn't been proven and in fact there's evidence to the contrary. But that's irrelevant because neither Ms. Houston nor myself are in any danger of going down that road. We didn't even light up, much less inhale—unlike some of our more recent U.S. presidents. We are both steadily, gainfully, employed, as precarious as that employment may be at this moment. Neither of us has nor have we ever had substance abuse problems. We are not late on our bills; we do not hold up banks and convenience stores to feed an addiction, because we don't have any, outside of sex perhaps, but…"

"Mr. Shore," the judge said impatiently.

Alan continued without missing a beat. "We do volunteer work, well, actually _she_ does that. I'm rich so I just throw money at the charitable institutions; that way, I don't actually have to get my hands dirty. And your honor has heard of the upcoming ballot where marijuana possession may be deemed a civil infraction instead of a criminal one?"

"I have."

"Well if our lawmakers see the senselessness of this being a criminal action then why are we here? It was one joint, never smoked, possessed by a woman with no priors."

The judge waved his hands. "All right, all right." He spilled a little coffee on the floor. He looked down, "Dammit." Then he looked back up at Alan. "You're right, Mr. Shore, this is a waste of everyone's time. Hell, I doubt there's a person in this room who hasn't lit up on occasion. I know I had more than my fair share in college."

Alan smiled.

The judge wheeled and looked over the rim of his glasses and pointed with warning at Alan and Miranda. "Not that that makes it right."

Alan shook his head and said, "Of course not" as Miranda nodded and said, "Right."

"As for the other claims brought against you—you're grown ups—just don't…" He waved his hand in the air. "Do those things again…"

"Ever?" Alan said.

"In public, Mr. Shore. Ms. Houston," the judge looked at her. "Mr. Shore here has a difficult time with boundaries and self-control. You should be careful that he doesn't become too much of a corrupting influence in your life."

Alan pointed to himself, looking around the courtroom in shock.

The judge continued. "As you are clearly the more level-headed in this relationship, if you insist on dating him, you have a heavy responsibility to help him toe the line and to ensure that I never, ever see either of you again as defendants in my courtroom. Understood?"

Alan smiled, laughing silently to himself.

"Yes, your honor."

"$200 fine for indecency and 6 months probation on the rest for each of you. Adjourned. Recess."

"Thank you your honor." Alan and Miranda said in unison.

The judge tapped his coffee mug like a gavel on the court reporter's desk, spilling some coffee. "Get someone to clean up that coffee." He said to the officer on his way out.

Alan led Miranda out of the courtroom, his fingertips on the small of her back.

They stood at the elevator when it opened they stepped in alone.

When the doors shut, she put her arms around his neck and kissed him softly. "Thank you." She ran her hand down his tie. "I could watch you do that every day. I just love to see you in action, the way you take charge and dominate the courtroom like that—the way you're so bold and eloquent and passionate—it is the single-most stimulating experience…"

He laughed, but was visibly moved by her reaction. "And are you stimulated now?"

"I am."

"You make it sound almost erotic."

"For me it was. I think I have a word fetish, if that's possible."

"You know," Alan said, his hand on her ribcage. "I have been thinking about your Roman costume all morning: the sheer fabric that clung to your movements, outlining your figure as you walked. You looked every bit a Roman princess, every bit a nymph or a goddess. How about…" He trailed his finger along her clavicle. "You and I go put on our costumes and celebrate our victory in true Roman fashion."

"You mean invade unsuspecting territories, beat them to a bloody pulp and take them as our own in order to expand our empire?"

He paused. "The _other_ Roman fashion."

She chuckled.

The doors slid open and they stepped off.

"We can call it an early lunch," he said.

"It's only 10 a.m., Alan. Won't they be expecting us back at the firm?"

He hailed a cab and opened the door for her.

Once they settled in he said, "We can make time for a short reprieve."

"The judge said I have to be the responsible one and make you toe the line."

"Where to?" The cabbie said.

"One moment, please. Start the meter," Alan said. He turned to Miranda. "You aren't going to take the judge's directives seriously, are you?"

She shrugged. He rolled his eyes and sat back against the seat. "What happened to your stimulation resulting from my eloquence and passion?

Miranda said to the cabbie, "Four Seasons hotel, please."

She and Alan locked eyes and a slow, mischievous smile spread across her lips. She said, putting her hand on his thigh, "I think you'll recall the judge never specified the line had to be straight and narrow."

"That's my girl," he said, smiling.

That night, Alan and Denny stood on the balcony, smoking their cigars.

"So did you get off?" Denny said.

"I assume you mean the charges against me and Miranda?"

"Not really. But how did that go?"

Alan smiled up at the night sky. "It went well. We had to pay a fine and we're both on probation for the next six months, which means we may have to stay indoors more often."

"Sex in an alley," Denny mused then chuckled. "I can't believe you, man. How was it?"

"As degenerate as I could have hoped."

"I'm going to have to try that sometime."

"Just don't call Shirley to bail you out."

Denny laughed. "I heard about that. I bet she was mad." He sucked in his breath. "Did her nostrils flare?"

"They did."

"Well, as long as she was still yelling at you, you're okay."

"Why didn't you call me? I would have bailed you out."

"You were on a date, Denny. How did that go by the way?"

"Great. She spent the night. I'm seeing her again tonight."

"Isn't it grand? We both have a girl at the same time."

"She makes my toes tingle," Denny said, gnawing his cigar.

"Me too!"

"Or I guess it could be poor circulation."

"Let's just say it's the sex."

"Shirley used to make my toes tingle."

"I bet."

"I wish I'd been there," he chuckled. "You and Margaret…"

"Miranda."

"In your togas, Shirley chewing you out." He laughed. "I bet that was something."

"It was." Alan paused, pensive. "She said something though that kind of bothered me."

"She said I defiled Miranda."

"Well, you did have sex in an alley. But it was purely consensual right? I mean, you didn't coerce her."

Alan leaned on the railing, looking out across the city. "No I didn't coerce her. But I'm not sure that matters."

"Of course it does. You can't defile someone who wants the same thing you want at the same time you want it."

"I don't know. Miranda said she didn't feel defiled. And then the judge warned her that I might corrupt her. And I guess he's right. We've been dating only a few weeks and I've already gotten her arrested and on probation."

"Ah." Denny waved his hand impatiently. "What's the big deal in getting arrested? Especially over trifles. It's like having sex. After the first time, it gets easier."

Alan puffed his cigar and chuckled. He blew a smoke ring into the air.

"So do you think she was just placating you about being defiled?"

"No. I think she was sincere."

"Sounds like you found your soul mate."

"You don't really believe in soul mates, do you, Denny?"

"I like to think there's just one special person out there just for me."

"But you've been married six times."

"Marriage doesn't have anything to do with it, Alan. It's what's in here." He pointed at his heart. "It's that connection that knows no bounds, no time, no material existence."

"That's very romantically metaphysical of you but seems unlikely."

"Shirley's my soul mate, Alan. I know it."

"But she's with Carl. You and Shirley haven't been together for 25 years."

"No one said you will always be _with_ your soul mate. Sometimes life just makes that impossible with conflicting careers, desires, goals—all that stuff gets in the way. But in here," he said, pointing to his heart. "And in here." He pointed to his head. "That's where the connection is—that's what matters. And nothing or no one can ever dissolve that connection. Ever."

Alan smiled faintly. "I believe you."

"And who knows," Denny leaned on the rail, looking up at the sky. "Maybe this Marie…"

"Miranda."

"Is your soul mate."

"That's a nice thought," Alan said.

"Even if she's not. She certainly sounds like the girl of your twisted sexual fantasies."

Alan laughed and chewed on his cigar, dreamily. "Indeed."

"So if this thing with Joan works out," Denny said, "We should expand our sleepovers. Have a slumber party. You and your girl, me and my girl."

"Sounds delightful."

"Separate beds though."

"Denny, I wouldn't have it any other way."

They stood silently for a moment, taking in the night.

Alan said, "Denny. Do you think soul mates are just between romantic partners?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, do you think they can be…let's say…between two people who are just friends?"

Denny thought about it. "I don't see why not."

"Do you think we're soul mates?"

"Why do you have to get all soft on me, Alan?"

Alan laughed. "I'm not. I was just wondering."

Denny wavered, thinking. Then said, grudgingly, "Yea. I suppose we are."

Alan smiled. "I think so too."

Denny checked his watch. "I got to go meet Joan. Don't want to keep her waiting," he said lasciviously. "I tell you she's a fireball. You know what they say: Girl with red hair, fire downstairs!"

Alan frowned. "I always heard it: Red in the head, fire in the bed."

"I don't care how it's said, as long as my hose is fighting the fires. Ha-ha!"

"Oooh." Alan squinted, repulsed. "God, Denny!"

"As I recall, those were Joan's exact words last night." Denny laughed.

Alan rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Are you telling me you don't like it when a woman says, Oh God, Alan?"

"I do actually."

"See. Makes you feel like a king."

"I does."

Then Alan looked steadily at Denny. "It's good to see you happy, Denny."

Denny chuckled. "I am happy. After Beverly, I didn't think…So you going out with Mona tonight?"

"Miranda. And I think it's safer if we stay in tonight since we're on probation."

Denny lifted his scotch glass to Alan. "To soul mates, my friend."

Alan beamed and tapped his glass against Denny's. "To soul mates."


End file.
